


Till You Can’t Manage

by PeopleInThatBackRoom



Series: S [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Come Eating, Face-Fucking, Fuck Or Die, Hybrids, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, Spit As Lube, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-02 07:45:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16782685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeopleInThatBackRoom/pseuds/PeopleInThatBackRoom
Summary: Vice. Crime for hire was the norm there, no job too small for the right person—and right price, of course. One could even manage to completely get away with murder, if they could somehow lure their target to Vice that is. Besides violence and theft, Vice also happened to be a great place for finding out information—something Ludwig was very much counting on.





	Till You Can’t Manage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SandGambler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandGambler/gifts).



In Ludwig's opinion, Vice was not really a city at night. It was one giant pot of seedy self indulgence.

Of course, Vice was only one of the five districts of New Tangiers, and didn't reflect the atmosphere of the other four in any way--though to many people it certainly appeared that way, with Vice being a one of the major reasons people even bothered traveling to New Tangiers in the first place, the others being firmly planted in the categories of government work and entrepreneurial ventures, both of which usually took place in New Tangiers capital.

People came to Vice to wind down; partake in less than proper activities without really being held responsible for any of them. Though quite a long way off from the likes of Vice in the terms of location, Calypso was very much in the same light, with its easygoing attitude towards pleasure and celebration, but that is where the cities' similarities veer off.

Calypso keeps with its original spirit while Vice keeps going further and further into questionable proceedings. Crime for hire was the norm there, no job too small for the right person--and right price, of course. One could even manage to completely get away with murder, if they could somehow lure their target to Vice that is.

With the crime-rate and death tally as high as it was there, almost any and all deaths would be ruled out as a casualty of in-fighting and the unfortunate fate of being caught in the middle of it. Besides violence and theft, Vice also happened to be a great place for finding out information.

Gang activity, political secrets, military tidbits, common scandal--anything a person could wonder, if their own information and money matched up with their request, that is. The matter of alliance could be a bit of a hindrance if one wasn't careful, but in Vice, there were people to get pass that too.

Something Ludwig was very much counting on as he walked through the wet streets of the city. He had arrived there the night prior, staying in the small apartment his brother Gilbert's old friend lived in, rested there for barely an hour before making a effort to do homework on that particular area, discreetly researching the tavern he was supposed to meet his contact in and the surrounding areas, as well as any escape routes and back alleyways that would prove useful in case he had need of a quick escape.

He also tried his hand at scoping out the most present gangs in that area, only two out of the several that turned out to be foes—but he supposed there would be enemies everywhere regardless of location. That was yesterday.

Now, a good twenty minutes before meeting his contact, he was currently on his way to the contact's choice of establishment, the Dog's Teeth Tavern, a cloak clinging to his body to avoid the rain, as well as recognition and suspicion. His steps were collected, his body sturdy, but his mind still wandered, trying to pick apart every piece of his plan and see how many different ways it could be put together.

Not that it was worth the effort, seeing as his original plan was in motion, there wouldn’t be too much time to dwell on anything but the information being told, how to deal with potential listeners, or tactful leave in case of betrayal. He had already created one route in his mind—the others just served as distraction for his nerves—and he would follow it, with the exception of absolute necessity for new direction. Which hopefully, there was no need for.

Still a reasonable fourteen minutes early, Ludwig entered the tavern for a second time in the past twenty four hours. Doing a quick once-over of the room, he spotted the seating placement the contact had decided on—farther back into the establishment, one side deftly hidden from immediate view.

Now that he was gifted the opportunity to scope the area, he noticed how the seating a little farther to the right would have been most ideal for the escape route he had planned but brushed away the thought, filing it away with his annoying insistent need to straighten out all the potential edges of his plans and of course, right alongside things he needn’t worry about since supposedly, everything was to be going according to plan.

Not wanting to seem out of place, he bought himself a drink—something cheap and a unique, unpleasant combination of bitter and sour while he waited—not at the table, per the peculiar request of the person he was meeting for Ludwig only to approach the table once the information holder arrived. Time passed on as normal, and no one paid much mind to him.

He was another face at the bar, as dirty and suspicious as anyone else in the establishment. It was funny to think, at a different time in his life, he would have felt indignant at anyone associating him with the lot surrounding him—poor, didn’t mean dirty or in any way lacking ethics or self respect, and his younger self had been determined to prove that—a complete reversal to the relief he presently felt, being an unassuming commoner in the lot, grim and not looking to cause trouble so long as it didn’t come looking for him.

He sat by the bar, alone with his thoughts and nursing the same drink for twelve minutes, twenty seconds before he noticed a rather large man make his way over to the table he was to meet the informant at.

Downing the rest of his drink in two swallows, he slips away from the bar and heads towards the table, hoping that the man sitting there now was the person he was looking for and not just someone who maybe thought that would be a good spot to hang around for a while.

Thankfully, his luck is better than that.

The man didn’t look up as Ludwig approached the table, only croaked in his apparently small voice the words Ludwig was to wait for. “all who seek knowledge...”

“Will find more than the truth,” Ludwig finished. The man eyed him for the quickest second before he nodded his head to the seat across from him. Ludwig wasted no taking his seat, eager to learn the results of his search.

“The first half wasn’t hard to get. The Black Eagles _are_ the gang behind everything, and they aren’t doing much of a job to hide it. They are making their way through the center and south fast, heading west, with lots of weapons, girls, money, and the nasty drug making rounds, _Electric Eel_.”

The thought of loads of weapons were a little alarming, but Ludwig wasn’t foolish enough to think it was going to be used on the civilians. They were standard defense and intimidation tactics against gangs that attempted to encroach on another gang’s territory.

The _girls_ and money weren’t as alarming. The money was there to buy the places to host the workers, who were then in turn supposed to reel money back in with their talents. Ludwig didn’t enjoy the fact that there would always be a couple of workers abducted and forced into that lifestyle, but he hoped they and the others who worked willingly would be treated fairly at least.

What really disturbed him was the electric eel. It was as he had feared—the Black Eagles were planning on bringing heavy drugs into Section 6, further destroying any chance of its poor citizens from coming out of their poverty. He couldn’t allow that to happen. Even if it seemed no one else really cared.

He nodded, not noticing how much his hood had slid off, much to involved with taking in all the man’s information before prompting the other part of their exchange with a, “and the other half?”

“Ah yes, the girl. I didn’t find out too much, but I did manage to overhear that Twe-“

Suddenly, the front of Ludwig’s shirt was grabbed and he was forcefully pulled up from his seat.

“I _thought_ I recognized you from somewhere,” the man jeered. Ludwig, who was in too much shock to fight back, couldn’t say he recognized the man from anywhere. The man was larger and taller than Ludwig himself, his muscles bulkier, especially his arms.

His _arms_. His right one in particular, anyway. There was a sign on it... Ludwig could have sworn he had seen it somewhere before, but where?

The Black Eagles.

This was bad.

The man chuckled at the alarm in his eyes and tightened his grip around Ludwig’s shirt. “Now, ya remember, eh,” he moved in real close, his hot rancid breath on Ludwig’s ear. “You’re not getting away from the Black Eagles this time, kid.”

It was then when Ludwig made his move.

He banged his head against the other man’s as hard as he could, temporarily stunning him and loosening his hold on Ludwig’s shirt. He wasted no time pushing the man into the table he had been sitting at—emptied, the moment the bulky man had lifted Ludwig from his shirt—and sped away from the scene, not bothering to turn around at the man’s warning shout.

As quickly as he could, he looked over to the main exit but found it was now crawling with Black Eagles’ members—ones who probably also heard the shout—so it was no longer a possibility. The second and third floors had windows but with the number of enemies around it wouldn’t do any good to get caught while trying to successfully escape from one.

That only left the kitchen and the first floor sleeping rooms. He didn’t know if he could access the kitchen area without drawing attention to himself, so pulling up his the hood of his cloak, he headed towards the lower rooms.

He swiftly maneuvered through the tavern’s back rooms, still in haste but not wanting to draw any recognizable attention to himself as he made his escape—which he was part relieved, part frustrated on.

Why hadn’t he checked to see if his hood was still on his head? The man wouldn’t have spotted him otherwise. He was about to learn the last piece of information he wanted—a piece crucial to his and Gilbert’s past and then all of that was taken as soon as it was offered. Damn him. Why? Why him? Why them? 

He would worry about it later. He _was_ being chased out in the open still. His priority was getting out of there, fully intact. He would ponder on the information gleamed....and any regrets he had once he was back under the radar.

His research from the day prior proved as useful as he could have ever hoped--regardless of the circumstance being less than ideal--and pushing pass people, he was skillfully making his way past the—surprisingly plentiful—quantities of rooms to the way back of the establishment, to the doors he had only seen from the other side.

His heart pounded with each new clattering of feet. Whether it be from his closeness to ths exit, the attainable goal, or the knowledge that there were still people hot on his trail, he didn’t know. All he really knew was that he was so close-

He felt a faint prickling sensation on his neck, and in the very next second he was yanked away from his path and pulled aside to the wall. The knife now traced his neck, its blade coming dangerously close to piercing into the skin. He stood completely still under the attention of the weapon, not wanting to give its owner any reason to lobe his head of right then and there, and focused on slowing his breathing to a casual state as much as he could while having a blade tickle his throat.

He didn't trust himself to speak but forced his head to come up with words to vomit out anyway—he couldn’t just stand there and wait for the man hot on his trail or his fellow Black Eagles, who he would probably inform to find him, threatened or not—but was beaten to it by the individual keeping his escape to a standstill.

“Let's take a little walk."

Ludwig fought back the urge to shudder and instead made to clench his fists. That, that _voice._

One that for the pass three weeks, he had grown intimately familiar with, that kept him up at night, tossing and turning, resisting its propositions and feeling sorry that he did every time he closed his eyes and heard his teasing voice in his ears.

Now that same voice was doing the exact same thing, only this time, the blade at his neck was too real to be one of his late night disturbances.

The man was at his ear once again, his hot breath doing things to Ludwig he wish he could deny, saying, "let's go," the man's grip tightened on Ludwig’s arm in a warning, but there was no need. There was too much at stake for Ludwig to try anyone's patience, this man's included. The faster he complied the faster he would be able to make his escape.

"Why are you doing this?" Ludwig asked in an attempt to stall, all the while straining his ears to hear whether or not the man looking for him was closing in on his location, then added. "Do I have a choice?" The man laughed, it's bitter and hollow tone setting Ludwig more on edge than ever.

“What do you think?"

“No."

"Good," the man said before pulling Ludwig out of the hallway and into a seemingly unoccupied room, the light of the hallway a distant memory in the midst of the darkness that permeated this new space--even more so when the man shut the door. The reminder of death knocking at his throat, Ludwig continued to make no sudden movements, allowing himself to be led further into the room.

The man flicked on a dim light, and Ludwig was greeted to the sight of a few dusty chairs stacked in the far corner of the room, a broom propped up right next to them and in the center of the room, a table, with benches connected on both of its sides. It was a storage area of some kind, Ludwig assessed.

He discreetly turned his head towards the room's only entrance and exit, the peephole like cracks capturing his interest especially, but before he could truly focus in on them, his was pulled even further into the room, pushed onto the closest bench, and made to face his captor, who was smirking, but in Ludwig’s opinion, appeared more suspicious of him than anything.

"We meet again," the man said, tracing his knife against Ludwig’s jawline. Ludwig held back the pessimistic feeling in his gut telling him he wasn't getting out of here unscathed, if at all—though he tried not to dwell to hard on this last part.

“Let's see," the man began again, pressing his knife into the center of Ludwig's neck, the force just enough for Ludwig to it bitting into his skin ever so slightly. "You answer my questions and I'll let you go. That sound fair?"

Almost all the tension that had piled high in Ludwig deflated in that instant. He had been sure he was done for! Believed that those few words were going to be the last thing he heard before he was on the floor bleeding out, a souvenir left for his enemies. He knew that technically it wasn't any reason to celebrate--he wasn't out of this situation yet, not by any sense of the word--but in his mind anything happened to be a step up from death.

And answering questions was thankfully a good measure away from being deceased. The only thing he could really depend on now were the questions to be in his favor.

"What are you doing here?" the man growled impatiently. At that moment, quite a few alarms went off in Ludwig's head, several of them only colorful profanities--because of course that was the first question the man would ask--before he calmed himself down and opened his mouth to answer him-

“Don't bothering lying," the man said, not letting Ludwig get a single word out. "I'll know, and then I will kill you."

Ludwig closed his mouth just as soon as he opened it. He couldn't exactly place why he believed the man's threat, besides his captor's obviously dangerous appearance and lack of hesitation towards violence, but he did. It struck him to his very core, leaving him with no material to plan with whatsoever. It was official now. He was going to die here.

Not to mention the Black Eagles were all around the building, and one in particular was angry and searching the place for him, and if he didn't make himself scarce soon, his location was bound to be found out, and tagging alongside whoever found him would be his untimely demise.

On the other hand, he couldn't just give away his reasoning for being here, let alone give up the information he had received. Threatened or not, he couldn’t let this man or anyone know his plans, or anything in direct relation to them.

He would have to find another way to convince his captor--he spared a brief glance to the door out of the corner of his eye, and was once more reminded of the men currently hunting him down--preferably fast. But what? What would pique the man's interest enough for Ludwig to get away without having to tell him anything?

He looked to his captor, who continued to quietly hover over him, waiting for Ludwig to make any unnecessary sudden movements, and with a quick breath, began vomiting out words with the hope at least one of them would get through to the man in front of him.

“Please," Ludwig said, lowering his voice, not wanting to make his presence known to any passerby, or worse off the men he was running from. "I have nothing you want. Let me go…please," he pleaded urgently, his voice straining in increased frustration at his less than stellar luck.

While he continued to try and invoke a response from his captor, Ludwig took extra care to refrain from asking any questions that could easily fall under "what do you want from me"—because they would be pointless. He already knew the answer—the man already said what he wanted moments ago, and Ludwig had already decided he wouldn't dare give his plans up to a complete stranger.

His frustration grew as a side effect, at the man's lack of response and his own failure to secure a proper alternative, goading him into staring at the closed door, into hearing the casual patter of the footsteps on the other side, into imaging two pairs of passing feet belonging to the goons scouring the building for his head to take it off his hands, into thinking about the man keeping him here; the root of his current problems.

There had to be something, anything at all, that he could offer up to the man to get him to cave. He needed to find it before death grasped him by the hand—whether it was his captor leading him to it or the men outside.

He concentrated as hard as he could without trying to appear too overtly suspicious, but, as the seconds ticked by and his mind remained blank, he couldn’t help the sinking feeling of doom that began gnawing on his insides. He looked up from his clenched fists back on to the man for what felt like the eleventh time.

This time around, he didn’t immediately look to his eyes—which were still very much trained on Ludwig—but took his time tracing the man's body, starting from his knees, his gaze outlining them then making its way up to his thighs—higher, to the hips that they were planted upon and the lean, taunt stomach that came after it.

His eyes ran over the man's hands and arms, willowy but with an underlying strength to them, back to his chest and the shirt hugging his form nicely, and his neck, which was stirring the thoughts that Ludwig wrestled with every night as he closed his eyes and attempted to rest, and finally to his face, which had shifted from its calculating expression into a more amused stance, teasingly dipped into curiosity.

It was then as embarrassment sought him out his blunt action that an idea formed clearly in his head.

"Please, please I-," Ludwig blurted out before he could stop himself.

"What?"

“I...”

Forcing himself to keep on the path he just unearthed, Ludwig looked the distrustful man in the eye and promptly moved from the chair, sinking on his knees to the floor in front of the man. Feeling his luck was changing by the way the man hadn't slit his throat right then and there, he pushed himself to be even bolder, placing his hands on the man's thighs, inching them closer and closer to the fastening on the pants.

In one swift motion, he unfastened the pants and gingerly ran his fingers on the man's clothed, quickly hardening dick, getting a quiet groan out of his captor. He managed to pull his captor's dick out of his pants and into the open before all his earlier courage gave out, leaving him with a lack of nerve and a hard dick in his face.

He didn't know if he could really bring himself to suck the man's dick--again--let alone get the man to reconsider his stance even if he did service him. It was a bad plan, a stupid plan, and he shouldn't have rushed into it. He should have thought about it. He should have-

The dick now nudged at his lips, the precum leaking from it lazily glazing them with every passing second. He looked up to see the man looking back down at him, eyes expectant and swollen with lust. Ludwig swallowed thickly, before focusing his attention on the hard cock in front of him.

There really was no turning back now. Doing so would only make the man more unwilling. No, rash or not, he made this decision, and if he wanted to gain any sense of leverage with his captor, he would have to stick with it. He would have to please him.

He tentatively resettled his hands on the man's thighs, and opened his mouth to lick a strip of the man's cock. The man now had his brows raised, his head casually leaning forward as if he only just started to acknowledge Ludwig--something Ludwig wasn't sure he wanted to know was a good or bad sign.

He gave the man's dick another lick, before suddenly taking the head pass his lips to combat his returning hesitancy. The man groaned at that, his hands leaving his sides to come and rest in Ludwig's hair. It was then that Ludwig felt a cool sensation tucked in between the man's right hand.

The knife.

The man still had it on him, that much was obvious. He was not, however, wielding it as a threat at the moment, that particular thought gave birth to rebellion--Ludwig fleetingly entertained the thought of bashing his head right into the man's groin then making a run for it--at least, before he realized it would just add to the number of dangerous people hunting him. And he had a feeling, unlike some of the others, this one would have no problem finding him wherever he went.

He pushed that thought back into the recesses of his mind. This problem, he needed to solve without making another enemy intent on killing him.

He took the dick deeper into his mouth, his own arousal growing with the groans and grunts that occasionally came from the man. With every inch he managed, the pleased noises became more frequent, further sparking the desire he knew was bad, bad, _bad_. Was dangerous. Was..... very much like his dreams.

In one swift movement, he pulled his mouth off the man’s dick, leaving the glistening appendage alone for a mere second before licking a long strip from the base to the head. Now at the head, he teased his tongue at the slit before focusing on lapping up the dripping pre-cum.

The man was pleased at the sight but wished to experience Ludwig’s warm mouth again and pulled on his hair to tug his face closer in an attempt to shove his dick between Ludwig’s lips once more.

Not wanting to test things, Ludwig obliged the man, parting his lips and taking the man’s cock in his mouth, determine to make him cum then find a way to escape after. He was so caught up in his task, he almost didn’t hear the voices outside the door.

“Check the rooms here,” came a voice from outside. It was a somewhat muffled by the door and distance, but unmistakable belonged to the Black Eagle from earlier. “I saw the little rat run into one of them with some accomplice...”

“There’s people sleeping in some,” another person pointed out—presumably they were also a Black Eagle.

“Well, they’ll have him tah thank.”

The Black Eagle’s voice was clearer, closer, the sound of his boots, louder and it made Ludwig’s heart pound at how close he was to being caught. How, if one of them opened the right door they would see Ludwig—and that would be the end of him.

His inner turmoil was reflected on his ministrations of the man’s dick. He was getting slower, sloppier, wanting to check for any signs of the men at every possible second to keep his paranoia in check.

It got to the point were he was about to take the man's dick out his mouth, but when he tried he felt the telltale sign of the knife sharply poking his cheek. He looked to the man for an explanation and found his captor leaning down towards him, firm grip on his hair to hold him still, and in a breathy voice, muttered-

“Don't take it out."

Reluctantly, Ludwig took the man's dick into his mouth again, continuing his earlier ministrations. Unlike the first time, the man didn’t leave him to his own devices for long, wasting no time choking Ludwig on his cock, his ramming down Ludwig’s throat just audible enough for the men on the otherside to catch.

“Did you hear t’at?” one of the men rumbled to the other.

“What?”

Tears gathered at Ludwig’s eyes as he struggled to handle the forceful ramming of the man’s cock down his throat, and the loud squishing noises that accompanied it. They had heard something. _Were_ hearing something, and it was him, choking on this guy’s dick. Any second now, they would pinpoint the room the noise was coming from, and with them came his demise.

To say he was panicked would be an understatement, but for the time being he was helpless to prevent or prepare for this fast approaching fate.

Not that it actually mattered—the very next second the man abruptly hauled him up by the hair and turned him so his back faced the door then pushed him into the table, bending him over its surface. His pants and underwear were quickly wadded at his knees, leaving his bare ass on display for the man behind him. The man made quick work of spreading Ludwig's firm ass, giving the pink pucker in between a couple of teasing licks before pushing his tongue in.

_“A-ahh..”_

Ludwig quickly covered his mouth to mute any other sounds that attempted to escape. He needed to resist—couldn’t give the goons any extra help in finding him, couldn’t be caught this time...

The man plunged his tongue deeper and Ludwig’s thighs began to quiver under the sensation. How was this man making him falter so easily under his touch?

The man gripped Ludwig’s skin from behind and any nearby flesh, kneading firmly through Ludwig’s back, ass and thighs as he fucked him with his tongue.

Ludwig groaned, long and deep and felt torn between hating himself for enjoying it so much or hating the man for doing it to him.

Seeing as it had been _his own_ idea in the first place, he was skewed towards the former but the latter wasn’t too far behind.

The man’s hands left him, giving Ludwig a reprieve of sort. It was short-lived as the hands that teased his body now took to exploring his hole, fingers probing in alongside the other man’s tongue. Just like their colleague, the fingers were quick to undo him with a mere press into his prostate—a sensation that even had the burn of lack of proper lubricant lean to more pleasurable than not.

With the pleasure, however came a heated want quickly boiling to the surface. It craved, told him the wet tongue and fingers weren’t enough, it demanded _more_ , something larger that Ludwig didn’t want to name even if he wasn’t exactly about to protest against what the said thing promised to bring.

His lips remained wordless but his body was burning with so much want that it took matters into its own hands, fucking back on to the man’s fingers and tongue, begging the best it could without words that _it’s not enough, it’s not enough, he wanted—needed more-_

Though, the man seemed to understand the increasingly needy state of Ludwig’s body and after teasing Ludwig’s prostate a little more, pulled out completely.

Ludwig heard the other man spit into his palms and the low deep groan that came next when the man took his own dick in hand, the squelching noise that accompanied it leaving Ludwig in anticipation of what was to come.

 _Then_ , the man’s dick teased at Ludwig’s hole and for a second Ludwig forgot about everything but /this/; nothing outside of right here and now held any relevance.

The man griped Ludwig’s hip with one hand and spread his ass with the other and began to slowly push in.

_“Nnngh.” Fuck._

Ludwig could feel it all: the pain that came with the man’s cock inside him, the abundance of saliva that made it bearable, and the anxiety of being found out but it all came second to being filled. Being stretched on the man’s dick was both completely fulfilling and absolutely _not enough._ He needed more, _/god/_ so much more, please...

Ludwig panted harshly through his hand as the other man began working a steady pace in and out of him, torn between giving in completely or staying as vigilant as possible for any signs of the Black Eagle goons—though it wasn’t exactly a competition, since his body was turning into putty against the other man’s steadfast fucking and his mind’s only real stance towards not giving in consisted of excuses he was starting not to believe anymore.

_Please please please—_

It was only natural that reality cut in before he was too far gone.

“Do you need something?”

He heard the man ask, each word punctuated by his thrusts. His heart sunk, waiting for the inevitable recognition that would fall upon the goons when they looked passed the man fucking him but it never came. Oddly enough, there weren’t any footsteps clanking around the room, almost as if they had stayed at the door. But, why would they—

“What’re you on about-“ the Black Eagle goon with the gruffest voice started off but curiously enough, paused mid-way.

“Oh.”

_What was going on that he couldn’t see?_

“Oh uh,” the first goon was grasping for words, none coming easy to him as he clumsily attempted to look the man in the eyes. “excuse us, sir, we were uh-“

“Just leaving,” his associate added readily, the exact opposite of his fellow goon: red in face and pointedly looking everywhere except straight ahead.

“Yes! Just leaving. Pardon us, sir,” the first goon said. Not soon after the door was shut, and the sound of footsteps leading away from the door were heard. What had the man done to invoke such a reaction from those two? Did they know him from somewhere? It was likely, but that would mean—

The hand Ludwig was biting down on to silence his noises was promptly pulled from his mouth and put behind his back along with his other hand, leaving his torso to slump onto the table’s surface without any support to hold it up.

“You might not talk but I need to get some noise out of you,” the man bent over and taunted into Ludwig’s ear before hitting his prostate dead-on.

“ _Aahh_ — _fuckfuck..._ ”

Again, and again and again—practically brutalizing that spot until Ludwig was quaking in white-hot pleasure from the sheer consistency of the thrusts. It wasn’t long after till he came, his seed hitting his stomach, parts of his legs and the table-bench he was bent over.

“F-fuck,” the man moaned as he came inside Ludwig mere moments later. He pulled out and watched as his cum began to dribble out of Ludwig’s ass before spreading his cheeks wide and sucking the cum out. Ludwig shivered at the overstimulation the action brought but couldn’t bring himself to be upset by it—at least there wouldn’t be much for him to clean afterwards.

When the man finished, he tugged Ludwig by the hair and pulled him up into a kiss, giving Ludwig a taste of the cum that was just inside him.

.....That thought alone opened up a dangerous path in his mind. One that he wanted to keep shut but knew it was too late to do anything more than regulate it. The path was going to widen no matter what, how _slowly_ or _quickly_ it did was entirely up to himself, however.

He pulled the brakes against the flurry of images that invaded his head as he gave in to the other man’s forceful kiss, and somehow managed not to pull the man back in and show him just how much of a willing participant Ludwig’s body craved to be once the man put some distance between them— _there isn’t any use getting ideas in your head you aren’t willing to face the consequences for._

“Don’t bother cleaning yourself up,” the man said before heading for the door. He paused before he fully exited the room and turned to face Ludwig once more, throwing him his own cloak and taking Ludwig’s. “Now you can go—unrecognized.”

He ignored the man’s comment and attempted to fix himself up a little—whether or not it was possible wasn’t the point. He would feel ashamed of himself if he didn’t at least _try_ to straighten up his appearance.

For reasons he couldn’t really explain, he couldn’t bring himself to ignore the man’s words _completely_ and found himself exiting the tavern with the man’s cloak around him, covering him almost completely—not that it caused any problems for him since he didn’t necessarily need his plain, unremarkable shoes to be hidden, only the parts of him that mattered. Back out in the dirty, dark streets with no danger in his vicinity he found himself thinking on the next thing to do was.

A very, very sizable part of him wanted to stay, camp out at his brother’s friend’s for one more night and try to find another way to obtain the information he hadn’t had the chance to get at the tavern but he made sure to squash that idea until it could no longer fight back.

No matter how much he wanted the information, it wasn’t worth running in to the Black Eagles again, and even if he managed to escape their grasps once more potentially getting followed by to Sector 6 wasn’t something big on his list or something he wished to take home to Gilbert.

Besides, Sector 6 was a good deal away from Vice and since he wasn’t exactly rolling in resources he’d be walking most of the way home.

He took a quick look around again, wanting to make sure that the Black Eagles or the man he bargained with for his life—or anyone—weren’t tracking him before seamless mixing in to one of the busier areas to quell his paranoia. He stayed to the busy streets until he found himself out the city at last.

It was time to start his a little over two days journey back home.

+++

“How much for this?” Ludwig asked, inwardly eager and hopeful to bring back a semblance of a _normal_ sized meal back home for his brother. The woman took the cloak Ludwig had and held it up to her face, scrutinizing it before her eyes widened in amazement.

“How did you get this, young man?”

“Found it,” Ludwig said instantly. The woman raised her brows at him.

“Found it, huh? Well it must have been a long way from here, ‘ay boy?”

“What do you mean?”

The old woman scoffed. “You don’t expect me to believe you found this _here_ ,” she cackled. “This luxurious item? Never. Most would argue it’s too good for the likes of us,” she gestured to the surrounding area. “And they’d be right. This _is_ a cloak of a person of wealth.”

Ludwig’s throat went dry at that. That man, the one he had bargained with one time too many was rich? If he could figure out _how rich_ , how high up he allegedly was then perhaps Ludwig could find out his identity and why the Black Eagle goons had backed off so easily—the very thought of what happened had been stabbing his side all day, especially when he recalls just how badly he needed to bathe, and what had caused that.

“How wealthy?” he asked, trying not to appear to eager. The woman saw right through his act but mistook his eagerness for greed. She chuckled.

“Rich enough to associate themselves with the twenty families,” she answered grinning with her teeth out.

 _That man.....he was that rich?_ If that was the case, what was he doing in Vice? And what exactly was his connection to the Black Eagles?

Ludwig swallowed thickly and took the cloak back from the woman to inspect it with his own hands. He scanned the garment for any further hint, any clue of _who_ exactly its owner was, but found himself at a dead end, however it did not weigh down his determination. He could try a second attempt at home—provided he get the cloak past Gilbert’s nosy self, which depending on the day could either be really easy or extremely difficult—then buy food and such later.

“Thank you, but I change my mind. It is no longer for sale,” Ludwig said politely, holding the garment close to himself. The merchant frowned.

“You won’t get a better price than here,” the woman argued. “every other merchant will assume its _fake_.”

“Then it is a good thing I am no longer interested in selling,” Ludwig said before taking his leave, paying close attention to anyone who passed him as he did. As much as he hated to admit, Sector 6 wasn’t a safe place, and one couldn’t put it pass the people here to steal the cloak right out of his hands, not even the old merchant ladies.

One day though, he believed it would be different—things would be safe, and the ugliness of Sector 6 will be pushed back by its own people, those who are ready for change, who are tired of being the scrape goat the corrupt believe they can use for test drugs and turning impressionable youth into mindless, greedy goons or forced laborers and a number of other disgusting tactics those in power have used to keep this place sleeping in the gutter.

He couldn’t say when this change would happen, whether or not he or any of the others in present hoping for change would ever get to see it but without a doubt, he believed it would come. He couldn’t truly explain why he felt so optimistically on this when he was usually in solid reality but he just....did.

It was the small, small part of one’s soul, Gilbert had said. Binding a person to their home-soil and the secret hope that came with wanting to see it do well.

As a teenager, Ludwig had always scowled when Gilbert said as much, and refused to believe or indulge in his older brother’s words, claiming them _childish_. Now, as an adult with too many problems he doesn’t want on his shoulders, he couldn’t help but find comfort in them.

By the time he made it home, he was so exhausted that he was ready to lay on the floor and not get up till morning. He wouldn’t, however.

Unlike his younger self, there were too many things that had to be done before Ludwig was allowed to close his eyes—a list that included showering, hiding the cloak and and checking on Gilbert.

He didn’t do them in that order. Hiding the cloak was the first thing he did. Checking on Gilbert was the second, but it didn’t take as long as he had originally thought it would—Gilbert was snoozing away on his bed, machine parts, grease stains and tools scattered everywhere, and if Ludwig estimated correctly, wouldn’t be getting up any time soon.

Seeing his brother so peacefully in his sleep made Ludwig’s own body envious for a reprieve but he forced himself to carry on to their small, shared bathroom, stripped then forced his aching body into the shower.

He pretended their lukewarm water was warmer—warm enough to soothe his sore body at least—as he thoroughly scrubbed himself clean. He didn’t stay in the shower too long. He couldn’t. There were too many thoughts, too many distractions that would be more than happy to get him to stumble, get him thinking about he was washing away the evidence of what had happened but that it was all _physical_ and that the water and soap running down his body wouldn’t _really_ change anything or take away the memories still fresh in his mind, feeding his lust—

He practically jumped out the shower and wasted no time drying and dressing himself, anything to get out of this room before he did or thought something he couldn’t easily take back.

Now cleaned of the outside’s clingy grime, his mind took to reminding him of the few tasks around his and Gilbert’s home that he’s let slide for far too long but as the list piled onward his body only groaned in protest. Tomorrow. He would do what was needed tomorrow.

He would also find out more about the identity of the cloak’s owner, find a way to obtain the piece of information he missed and how exactly the man from earlier and the Black Eagles were connected—and if they weren’t _what_ exactly had the man done to scare them off?

These were problems for tomorrow. For the remaining hours of today, his sole task would be rest.

He only hoped that once he closed his eyes there wouldn’t be a pair of dark brown ones waiting for him.

**Author's Note:**

> Well this was something I should have posted months ago.... Sorry, guys. 
> 
> Special thanks to Lupo and whoever comments—please, please comment because........I will love you forever.
> 
> Also Merry fuckin Christmas everyone


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